


touch

by dripndrops



Series: glow in the night [2]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, I hc that Ophilia isn't a touchy person per say but, Therion tries to stay away but Phili is worried, i still don't know how to tag, thinks of normal physical contact as a sign of trust, this is centered around Ophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 01:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15652566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dripndrops/pseuds/dripndrops
Summary: Ophilia just wanted to know why the thief avoided her hands.





	touch

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much a follow up to “guided”. There are some differences but it refers to it. It can be read as its own fic though.

He avoided touching her at all costs it seemed. Normally, Ophilia took no offense to this, although her position in the cathedral meant many hands were quick to grasp onto hers in short moments of gratitude or simply out of respect. Her other companions seemed to be completely fine with the occasional victory hugs and the like after difficult battles, Alfyn and Primrose especially. Yet Therion avoided her hands as though they were infected.

He always had, even when the two decided to team up, a town or so before meeting the others. She didn’t like him _immediately_ , but wanted very much to get to know him to change her first impression of him faster. After all, she knew she shouldn’t judge others by their initial appearance. Still, his cold and sarcastic personality made it difficult for her to find out how to get along with him, and her patience was tested every time she had clasped her hands in prayer to the Sacred Flame to heal him and would catch him rolling his eye or muttering something under his breath. Ophilia worried that she would one day regret deciding to journey with the thief, and would never be able to close the distance between them.

Then she caught him stealing an apple from a merchant’s stand in Rippletide.

Their eyes met (or, technically for him it was an _eye,_ since the other was covered by his hair) as he walked away from it with a triumphant smirk that disappeared immediately when he caught sight of her, and the longer he stared at her, the more he seemed to be asking, _“What, are you going to tell? Make me give it back?”_ Then, as though to taunt her, he sank his teeth into the apple with a loud _crunch._ She pursed her lips, knowing the younger merchant her growing group had just recruited would probably start a lecture if she found out. Perhaps if Ophilia lectured him herself, or asked Olberic to keep an eye on Therion to ensure he would stay in line…

The apple was shining in the hand of the arm that had a metal bracelet bound onto it its wrist.

She turned away.

When it had appeared on his wrist for the first time, a small, very shameful part of her thought it had served him right. He had, after all, broken into a home and tried to steal from the owner. The bracelet, a fool’s bangle, would serve as an excellent reminder of why his way of living was wrong, and now, he would repent by going through with its punishment.

Her stomach twisted when she remembered thinking that.

It wasn’t his fault. She couldn’t judge him for his decisions, for whatever had happened to him in the past that made him turn to committing crime. In another life, had Aelfric not been so merciful to her, she could have gone down that same path. Or, she could have gone down the path of a certain dancer with revenge driving her to wake up for another day…

Ophilia was blessed.

_How could I look down on others when I was lucky enough to have avoided those ways of living?_

She smiled at the merchant when she spoke to him, feeling Therion’s suspicious stare burning holes into her back. He was the first thing she set her eyes on when she finished with the merchant, a basket of apples hanging from her arm. Therion peered at the basket, then back at her, and slowly took another bite of the apple he had taken earlier. She straightened herself, walking up to him.

“Please inform me if you would like another,” she said, simply, not mentioning how he acquired his, or that she hadn’t told the merchant what he had done, or that in truth, all she wanted to do was apologize to him.

Another crunch of a bite into the apple, now reduced to its core. Therion tossed it into the water and started walking back to the inn where the others were waiting; initially stunned by both actions as well as his lack of a response, she watched his retreating back, then watched him turn and look back at her.

“Come on, we don’t have all day,” he pointed out, but was waiting for her nonetheless. A smile graced her lips as she hurried to his side. “...are you going to eat those?” His eyes were directed at her basket.

With a soft giggle, she reached into it and pulled one out, holding it in his direction. “They’re for you,” she said. His eyes seemed to harden, and as he reached out to take a hold onto the fruit, his hand stayed away from her glove-covered fingers.

It was the first time she took note that he avoided touching her.

 _Perhaps he’s simply uncomfortable with physical contact_ , she thought, and then watched as Alfyn and Cyrus slung their arms around the thief’s shoulders during their stay at a tavern, who simply rolled his eyes but went along with it.

 _Perhaps he doesn’t like initiating it,_ was another thought, and pursed her lips as she watched Therion ruffle Tressa’s hair when the merchant had taken her hat off.

_Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…_

_Perhaps he doesn’t like me._

Her heart stopped.

_After all, I’ve been thinking negatively of him despite my best efforts not to. I’ve been impatient and judgemental and…_

It felt like something had been lodged in her throat, and she was frozen in place.

Tressa turned to face the cleric, confusion etched onto her face. “Is something wrong, Ophilia? We’re almost at Saintsbridge! That’s where you need to go, right?”

Ophilia nodded, shaking her thoughts off. “Yes, and I’m alright. Thank you for your concern, Tressa.”

It felt like there was a heavy weight within her, somewhere.

 

-

 

_Why does he look so burdened?_

The half of the group that decided to go with Therion back to Bolderfall, to the Ravus Manor and wait while he delivered the stone, Ophilia included, all glanced at each other upon hearing his harsh words to his client. Despite the volume being a bit distant…

 _“No matter how much you trust someone, they_ will _betray you.”_

Then what did he think of _them?_ The group that he was traveling with? The group that he seemed to like enough to _tolerate_ , but had also protected in battle and never run off when needed?

There was definitely something on his mind, and she wished she was close enough to him to be able to ask directly what was wrong.

Therion raised an eyebrow when the other three wouldn’t look at him, but didn’t question their behavior.

With them being back in Bolderfall, where she first met Therion after leaving Flamesgrace…

“Therion?” her voice trembled ever so slightly when she approached him, hand outstretched to tap him on the shoulder. He jumped back before she could, and the heaviness in her seemed to grow at his reflex. But Ophilia smiled anyway. “We’re leaving for Flamesgrace.”

He looked somewhat confused. “What for?”

“I wish to visit the cathedral where my...father and sister reside. They will probably already be asleep by the time we get there, as it is nearing evening already…” She glanced at the sky and then back to him. “Would you join me when we get there?”

Therion pursed his lips, looking as though he had a million excuses and perhaps some retorts. But he held back, shrugging instead. “If that’s what you want.”

She already talked it over with the others—they all didn’t mind her request, despite it meaning they’d have to walk two towns back. By the time they arrived, it was, indeed, evening.

In the coolness of the cathedral that was empty save for two, and with the thief she had wanted so badly to get to know better, she was able to gather the strength to say the words she had always wanted to say, and most importantly, the apology that felt long overdue.

The light of the flame illuminated his face so gently, she spoke words of thanks to him and the Sacred Flame for allowing her to meet him without thinking, too caught in the moment. He didn’t make fun of her or break the serious mood _too_ much, offering his own thanks in his own way.

When her eyes stared at the flame once more, she wondered what it would be like to reach out and gently frame his face, brush his bangs aside, and stare at him for as long as he would allow her to.

 

-

 

He allowed her to get closer to him, after their visit to the Flamesgrace Cathedral.

Their group was relaxing, exhausted by traversing to two new towns. Many felt out of shape and wanted to put in training in more familiar areas before setting off for another new town for a different group member. They found themselves back in Saintsbridge.

The tavern was bigger than the other towns they had been in, and thus suitable for the large group to be able to hang around in. They all had their own journeys, their own burdens and drives, but they still wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Ophilia felt that more than ever as she watched her teammates interact; Primrose was teaching Tressa and Cyrus a basic dance, Alfyn, Olberic and H’aanit were singing with each other at a table with a few empty glasses scattered about, and Therion…

Hm.

She scanned the room once, twice—no sign of the thief. He was with Cyrus earlier, before the little dance lesson had initiated. Perhaps he left to get some air? As much as she loved her group, it _was_ getting stuffy inside and a bit embarrassing to continue watching them. She stood up her chair grating against the wood and catching the attention of Cyrus.

“Where are you off to, dear Ophilia?” he asked, Primrose and Tressa stopping to look at her as well. She offered them a smile.

“I just want to get some fresh air,” she said, walking towards the door. “I’ll be back soon!” Without a second glance at them, she left the tavern.

The Riverlands air wasn’t as crisp as the one back home, but it lacked the bite of the cold air that would always sting her cheeks. She took a deep breath, feeling at ease, and walking away from the tavern. During the day, the town was much calmer than the ones they had recently been to, even more so at night. After going down two flights of stairs, Ophilia made her way to one of the benches and sat down, taking another deep breath, trying to clear her mind. She closed her eyes. The less she thought about, the less she worried. If she stopped looking at her hands, she’d stop wondering whether there was something wrong with them. If she couldn’t see _him_ , she’d stop _thinking_ about him.

…

Where _was_ he?

She opened her eyes and jumped—”Therion!”

The white-haired man gave a huff. “If it had been another thief...well, let’s not talk about that. Why are you out here?”

She straightened herself, placing her hands on top of each other neatly in her lap. “I wanted to get some fresh air,” she said. “And…I noticed you were gone.”

“Thanks for looking out for me, _mom_ ,” he shot back, and then paused. She stared up at him, waiting for him to say something.  “...can I sit with you? It’d be weird of us to talk while I’m standing.”

“Of course,” she moved aside to give him room, and he sat with a considerably large space between them. She noticed immediately and stared down at her hands in silence.

“Is there something on your mind?”

Her head shot up to look at him.

Although off-put by her reaction, he continued, “Ever since our talk at the cathedral, I’ve noticed you’ve looked pretty off. Or, maybe you’ve always looked like that and I didn’t notice until recently.” She laughed at his remark. “What’s up? You don’t _have_ to tell me, but since I’m here…”

Her expression softened considerably. “Well, there is... _one_ thing that’s been bothering me,” she admitted. He was silent, waiting for her to go on. Gulping silently, she prepared herself. “It’s…you.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting her answer. “ _Me?_ What did I…” He trailed off. “...is it because you don’t want me around?”

“No! Of course not!” she exclaimed. “I told you before, I don’t think ill of you. It’s not _that_.”

His face was obviously hiding relief—even she could see that. “Then, what?”

Her hands began to fiddle with her skirt. “You…”

“I…?”

“Don’t…let me touch you.”

Silence.

Pure and awkward silence.

Her face flushed at his lack of a response, and she couldn’t bear to look up at him. “I-I don’t mean to say that in a way that would make you uncomfortable! I mean, if...that is, I assumed that it wasn’t _you_ that was uncomfortable—n-no, I mean, i assumed you _are_ uncomfortable—with, with…” Her series of stutters and short phrases was cut abruptly while she struggled to explain herself. “With _me._ ”

Therion still wasn’t talking.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to allow physical contact,” she continued. “And I don’t want you to think I’m assuming you’re uncomfortable with me because I despise you or something of that sort. Rather…that is to say…I’ve noticed you were alright with touching others and them touching you, but when it comes to me, you…draw away.” Her hands clenched into fists. “If I may ask…why? Is it…something I did? Is there something wrong…” _With me_ , she wanted to add, but couldn’t bear to say.

A heavy sigh was heard from the man next to her.

Startled by his action, she felt her heart skip a beat when he began talking, “First off, there’s nothing _wrong_ with you,” he started. “If anything, it’s the opposite.”

“The opposite?”

“Or, it’s not _you_ that’s wrong.” He stopped for a second. “It’s _me._ ” Once again, for what seemed like the millionth time that night, he had stunned her. “You’re a cleric. You pray to a god that has always watched over you, even in times where you were in pain and sorrow. A god that saved you from a life of sin and all that. A life that...well, a life _I_ live. A life I’ve always lived. You and I are opposite despite having been the same at one point in our lives—both of us were orphans. But still, you were able to grow up well and taken care of.”

“I...I’m sorry—”

“It’s not something you need to apologize for,” he huffed. “And it’s not something I hold against you. It’s just that, you…you’re…” His words hang in the air for a few seconds. “You’re what I could have been. What I used to hope I would be, when I was younger. Maybe not a _cleric_ , because I’m fine with being left off Aelfric’s ‘pitiful children I need to save’ list or whatever. But, you have a family that took you in. You were fed and cared for. The person I see when I look at you is like some kind of…miracle.” Her fists unclenched as she stared at him. His eyes, however, were directed in the area in front of them. “And when I realized that…it made me feel like I wasn’t worthy of looking at you. Like my flaws and crimes could, I don’t know, _taint_ you or something if it had the power to do that.” He shook his head. “Maybe having a drink with Alfyn really did mess up my head.”

“No, don’t say that,” she said, scooting closer to him. He flinched, quite obviously, but she didn’t mind. “So it isn’t....because you are uncomfortable with me?”

“I mean in a way it kind of is,” he replied. Upon seeing the crestfallen look on her face, he hesitated. “I was kidding. It isn’t like that.”

“I see…”

The heaviness that she had grown so used to seemed to disappear, just like that. She felt so much lighter, and her heart was filled with something else.

“Geez, _that’s_ what you were so worried about? I thought something happened to your sister or something,” he remarked, and she shook her head. “If that’s all it was, then I hope you’re fine now.”

“One more thing, actually.”

“Don’t tell me you’re upset over Prim not letting you _brush her hair_ or something.”

“Can I touch you _now?_ ”

The look on his face made her want to burst into giggles, but she pushed down the urge; a smile still betrayed her. At that, he peered at her. “Are you trying to tease me? Is this your way of getting back at me for what I said before, with the dragonstone? Because I wasn’t teasing you.”

“I’m not either,” she said.

He blinked a couple times, looking...nervous? _That_ was odd. “I guess, if you want.”

It felt like her gloves were squeezing her hands, which trembled as she brought them up from her lap. Therion’s eyes followed them, watching as they inched up, towards him—”Take those off.”

She pulled her hands back. “P-Pardon?”

He rolled his eye and said, “Your gloves” with no further explanation. Although bewildered, she followed what he said and took her gloves off, placing them on her lap.

She outstretched her hands, the palms facing towards him while she laughed. “Better?”

“Whatever.”

Without her gloves, for some reason, she felt even more self-conscious. She glanced up at his face, seeing that he was still watching her to see what she’d do. Whether out of curiosity or wanting to see Ophilia embarrass herself, she didn’t know. His own hand was visible, the one with the fool’s bangle hanging off of it…

Her fingers brushed against the metal lightly, her eyes staring intently at it. “I pray you’ll be able to get this off soon.”

Therion grunted. “At the pace this group is going in, I’ll probably have to just chop my hand off.”

“Please don’t.”

“A joke. Again.”

She didn’t reply, and instead stared down at his hand. The same hand that had avoided hers on the day she bought him a basket full of apples...she slid her hand down to rest, gently, on top of his. The small action made his body tense. She tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t.

“If you were anyone else, this would be _really_ _weird_ ,” he commented, and she laughed softly.

“What makes it not weird if it’s me?” she asked, looking up at him. He stared back with an unreadable expression and no answer The darkness of their surroundings reminded her of the night she brought him to the cathedral; even inside, the lights were dimmed to give way for the glow of the flame at the front. The way it illuminated his face, softened every glare she had ever seen on his face, smoothened every crease that appeared when he was annoyed or upset or off-put…

“Ophilia?”

She was sure she’d never forget it.

Her hands had reached up to frame his face, although she wasn’t sure when or how she had done so without noticing. When she did, she felt her heart start to race, but couldn’t find it within her to let go. She waited for him to say some sort of remark or…to push her away and put the distance back between them.

He was still.

Her thumb caressed his cheek before she could stop herself; his skin was softer than she had thought it would be. She heard him swallow.

“What are you doing?” he asked without a trace of hostility in his voice. She didn’t reply, not knowing what to say. Not knowing what else to do. Her other hand curved slightly and his bangs brushed against her fingers, catching her attention. Slowly, she moved her hand to sweep them aside…

His hands caught both of hers.

She ceased her actions immediately, her eyes staring at his. An apology was caught in her throat, and a million words were rushing from her to mind to her mouth, wanting to say something to ease the situation.

Whatever words that were supposed to come out, though, were silenced when he leaned forward, their lips meeting gently.

She felt her mind go blank in that instant, and everything about him felt enhanced. His hands still grasping onto hers, his face closer to her than it had ever been, _ever_ , and his lips—

He pulled away before she could fully process what he had just done, and released her from his grasp. A mumbled apology was all she heard before he stalked off in the direction of the tavern.

The cool night air could do nothing to calm her burning face.  



End file.
